Queen of Love and Beauty
by lannerz
Summary: Sometimes, Gendry has to remind Arya that she will always be beautiful, but he doesn't mind the responsibility.


**Author's Notes:** The two things that I end up writing most about are: Catelyn-related fics (mostly Catelyn x Tywin in the end) and Arya x Gendry. Those are my most popular ships to write about when it comes to requests, which is strange. This was just a cute and fun one to write – nothing depressing at all.

**Disclaimer: **GRRM owns all of these characters and also my soul.

**Queen of Love and Beauty**

Arya had never thought that she had grace until she'd learned to water dance. Her mother had put her in lessons for many years when she'd been a child, but all to no avail. The dance instructor had proclaimed that Arya was the most hopeless, clumsiest student she had ever had and that Arya would never learn how to dance. Grace just wasn't in her bones. At first, she had been excited because she no longer had to go to those stupid dance lessons with Sansa, but then she would hear her sister's laughter and realize that she was an embarrassment. She suddenly felt humiliated that she didn't have her sister's or mother's grace.

Everything had changed once her father had hired Syrio Forel as her water dancing instructor. All of a sudden, Arya knew how to dance. She had more grace than she could ever remember – and more fun, as well. Syrio did not judge her when she failed and complimented her when she succeeded. He was honest with her and helped her when she needed it. She became a water dancer in those hot days in King's Landing. And even though when she was left to her own devices on the road with the Night's Watch and later the Brotherhood Without Banners and she no longer felt like a water dancer, she still had the grace and balance of a cat. Her skills only sharpened when she was in Braavos. Under the guidance of the House of Black and White, she became more graceful than any dancer ever could be. She was sharp and quick, but more importantly, she was fluid and balanced.

It was days like this when Arya missed that grace the most.

Sighing, Arya stood in front of a foggy mirror, looking at her reflection. She could not help but frown at it. Once upon a time, she had been lithe and athletic; though she would always be small, she had had power and strength and grace. She would never be the most delicate flower in the Seven Kingdoms, but she could out water dance anyone in battle; she was even a good dancer now, even though her dancing style was much stranger than everyone else's.

Now she wasn't any of those things, and she felt terrible for it.

"Look at yourself," she muttered under her breath, turning to examine herself better. "You're not much of a wolf anymore, are you? Seven hells, you've become a cow."

"I don't remember cows being so beautiful," a voice said from behind her. Two strong arms wrapped around her waist. When she glanced into the mirror again, she saw Gendry's chin propped up on her shoulder. His blue eyes were bright and innocent, so much different from her dark grey ones. She would never be innocent again, no matter what she did. She had done things – many terrible things – when she had been in Braavos, things she could never take back.

Arya narrowed her eyes at his grinning reflection. "Stupid."

But he just laughed in response, pulling his chin off of her shoulder and stepping away from her. She turned around to face him, watching as he laughed without a care in the world. Of course he could. The year had been much kinder to him than it had been to her. At three and twenty, Gendry was strong and handsome as could be. He might never have been as graceful as her, but he could say proudly that he did not look like a cow. No longer was his hair black shaggy and hanging in his face; it had been cropped shorter, though he'd been dodging getting it cut, so it was starting to get into his eyes, the way she liked it. He was built even stronger than the day she'd met him in King's Landing, though not nearly as burly as his father had been. He'd gained none of the weight his father had in his age, instead remaining strong and capable.

Still, it would always be a little strange to see him wearing such fine clothing; after all the rags she'd seen him in, it would always be ironic to see him wearing a crown.

Arya let out another sigh and walked over to the edge of their bed where she sat down. "I miss the feel of a sword in my hand and the sound it makes when it swishes in the air," she told him, picking at the silk threads of the sheets. "I miss dancing around my opponent, like I'm gliding in the air, and the sound a sword makes against armor. Now while you get to have all the fun, I'm stuck waddling around the castle with a bunch of ladies cooing over how lucky I am and how excited they are for me."

"You don't waddle." Gendry smiled at her and then added, "Not too much at least."

Arya grabbed a pillow and chucked it at his head. "Listen here, King Gendry," she warned, picking up another pillow. "Just because I'm as large as a whale does not mean I still can't win this battle."

Gendry's smile took a more sheepish turn; and he walked over to her, taking the pillow from her, dropping the pillow on the floor, and taking both of her hands in his. "I know this is a trying time for you, Arya, but you _are_ beautiful," he told her, looking her in the eyes. Her frown deepened. "I know, I know. You've never believed me or anyone that has said it, but it's true." He reached out and tucked a strand of loose brown hair behind her ears. "Why else do you think I'm going to name you Queen of Love and Beauty in tomorrow's tourney?"

"I swear, Gendry, now you're mocking me." Arya had never felt beautiful before. Not when they had been married in some tiny, little sept against everyone's wishes, back when he had just been a bastard blacksmith. Not when they'd laid together for the first time, and he'd told her over and over again how stunning she was. Not when he'd been legitimized and made rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Not when he had been crowned as King of the Seven Kingdoms and she as his Queen. Not during Sansa's marriage to Willas Tyrell or Bran's marriage to Meera Reed. No, never had she felt truly beautiful, even if she smiled at Gendry when he said it.

"I'm not mocking you," Gendry responded, letting go of her hands and placing his on her swollen belly. She looked down at his hands, so warm against her belly, and put her hands over his. "You've never been more beautiful than you are now. I never thought I'd be in this position, Arya; you have to understand. When you came back into my life, I thought it was a dream. When you actually agreed to marry me, I thought I was imagining it." His eyes turned away from her and landed on the crown resting on a pillow. "Don't even get me started with all this king business. I'm still pretty sure I'm living in a dream world."

Arya put a hand on his cheek. "Gendry…"

"You were my queen before these crowns were placed on either of our heads." Gendry stood up and kissed her on the top of her head. "I might not win tomorrow, seeing as how no one is going to play nice with a mystery knight, but you are my Queen of Love and Beauty and this child, our child, will be the heir to the Throne."

"And if it's a girl, she'll be married off to the highest bidder."

Gendry crossed his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow at her. "Just as you were married off to one of the poorest boys of Westeros? Do you think so lowly of me?"

"No, I don't, but–"

"You married for love when everyone else told you that you couldn't," Gendry said, a small smile on his face. "Just as all our children will." He got down on one knee and put his hands on her knees. "If our child is a son, then he will be king and he will choose his queen. And if our child is a girl, then she will be queen, and she will choose her king."

"Truly?" But she didn't need him to answer her in order for her to know that he meant it. She smiled at him and though it was difficult and awkward with her large belly between them, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. "Maybe you're not so stupid after all." She leaned back and kissed him on the lips, her own quirking into a smile. "But you do know that if I wasn't pregnant, I'd be in that tourney as well, and I would undoubtedly beat you, right?"

Gendry laughed again. "Of course I know that."


End file.
